Title: A Study in Silver
Warnings: TIMELINE. I KNOW IT DOES NOT MAKE SENSE. Also, I have zero knowledge about wars and the details of medical training (I am just but a neuroscientist)—just take this as fiction thank you very much.
Summary: Modern London AU. Based off Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes and BBC's Sherlock. First out of four. "Who'd want me for a flat mate?"
A Study in Silver
If anyone was to consider a first impression of Kanda Yuu, no one would've guessed that he was a doctor. Or surgeon, to be precise. The twenty eight year old Japanese looked more youthful than his actual age suggested. It could have been due to the unnaturally flawless skin and exotic beauty that stained his sharp delicate but masculine features. However his appearance wasn't the main cause of this misconception—it was his infamous foul attitude. Cold, ruthless and cutting were not qualities often found in a profession where patient contact was of upmost importance, especially in an age where medical expertise was becoming customer service.
Despite his lack in warm heart, no one could deny that the then promising student from Barts' had a great deal of skill with the blade, surpassing his seniors. His surgeries were always quick and clean, decisions made with absolute zero hesitation and maximum confidence. However, in the midst into his residency at the University College London Hospital, he transferred to a course prescribed for surgeons in the British army. He had no complaints about his assignments until his regiment was sent to America to be stationed, and several weeks later the invasion of Iraq had been ordered. At once, he was sent to the enemy lines and entered upon his new duties.
It was a short but life impacting war. In the Battle of Nasiriyah he and six soldiers were captured in an ambush. During an attempt to escape he was struck on the shoulder by a bullet which shattered the bone and grazed the subclavian artery—fortunately, the rescue efforts had seized the two bridges of Ambush Alley under control by then. Despite his initial quick signs of stubborn recovery, infection caused several weeks of complications and by the end of it all he was declared to be dispatched back to England for recovery.
He only had an ex-foster father General Froi Tiedoll in England, who was secretly the main reason why he had attached himself to the army, but the day be dammed when he would ask the old man for help. He was given compensation for his time off, and eventually he found himself back in London, roaming the nostalgic streets idly. A month later of meaningless drifting, the constant twitch in his right hand reminded him of his frustrated dull existence. The tremor was also the main reason why he refused to find a job—knowing that he was incompetent was pure aggravation. Funds were starting to run low—inflation had never before been as high—and soon he realized that lounging around in a hotel in Holborn was not the smartest thing to do.
Two days after he had decided upon this, he was passing by Regent's Park when someone called his name. Upon turning around he recognized the younger girl who beamed back with surprise and delight.
"Kanda-kun! Since when were you back in London? Why didn't you tell me? Or Nii-san? Are you attached to a hospital here now? Where are you staying? Are you—"
"Lenalee," he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
He wasn't the kind of person to contact people, and Lenalee of all people should know that. The Chinese was several years his junior whom was shadowing the mortician during his third year of medical school—her brother was apparently great friends with his ex-foster father (joy)—and she had recognized him just by the fact that he was the only Japanese in his year.
"Sorry, it's just been a long time," the girl grinned, eyes twinkling knowingly. "We have got to catch up—in fact, are you free now? Let's go for some tea."
Kanda had never learned the art of saying no to Lenalee, and even after his army stint nothing had changed. Then again, it wasn't like he actually had plans. He found himself dragged to a particularly fancy high tea café in Covent Garden, with a pot of jasmine green tea brewing comfortingly next to him.
"So, what have you been doing nowadays?" Lenalee asked curiously after a long drawn out session of much coaxing for an account of his adventures in which he had no chance to sip his tea.
He shrugged non-committedly. "Looking for a place. Maybe."
The female nodded understandably. "Property prices are ridiculously high. I know Nii-san would like to move to somewhere cheaper, but I can't bear to part with central London," she sighed, lips ponderingly at the edge of her cup. "Perhaps you could find a flat mate—it's always cheaper to split the rent."
"No," Kanda denied immediately without a second thought. "Too annoying."
Lenalee giggled. "At least give it some thought," she chided.
"What's the point? You know I can't live with idiots. Besides," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Who'd want me for a flat mate?"
The pause after that was enough for him to glance at the girl, and there was a slow thoughtful smile at tugged at the edge of her lips.
"Curious," Lenalee remarked. "You are the second person to say that to me today."
Kanda cocked an eyebrow. "Huh. And who was the first?"
"Someone who is working at the chemical laboratory at the hospital," she replied after some thought. "Well, actually, he doesn't really work there, but anyway, he told me his landlord wants him to get a flat mate and apparently he'd get booted out if he doesn't—" her eyes widened excitedly. "That's perfect!"
The doctor was never really fond of girlish excitement. "What's perfect?" he asked blandly.
"You!" she nearly shrieked, clapping her hands together. "Him! This! Oh my god why didn't I think of this sooner?" she muttered under her breath, and turned to him with a big grin. "If you'd room with him, it'd be absolutely perfect!"
Kanda merely rolled his eyes. "I've already told you I don't want to live with anyone—"
"Come on, Kanda-kun," Lenalee huffed. "He's a nice guy. He's pretty knowledgeable about a lot of things, like anatomy and chemistry and he told me he's never taken any proper medical classes, which is pretty impressive, you've got to admit. You like smart people, don't you? Plus, when he's absorbed into his experiments he doesn't talk much, so he shouldn't annoy you."
"I don't care."
Of course, it wasn't like Lenalee ever listened to him. "Just meet him once," she insisted, and then paused. "Actually, let's go visit him now! He's always at the lab for hours at one go. I saw him this morning, so he should still be there!"
She grabbed his arm with great enthusiasm after throwing a few bills on the table and proceeded to drag him off.
It was unfortunate that he never did get to drink his tea.
St. Bartholomew's Hospital was a place that was not new to Kanda. After all, he particularly hated travelling from Whitechapel to the hospital during his placements. Bus services were ridiculously fond of delays and he didn't particularly like the route to walk there either. The hospital looked exactly the same whence he last entered—which was a few years ago—and he needed no guidance as they ascended the staircase and made their way down the long corridor. Towards the end was a low arched passage that branched away from the main corridor and led to a dun coloured door.
Lenalee gave two quick knocks and entered as though it was a familiar routine. Kanda followed moodily, not wanting to be there but he was in a situation that did not allow him to say no. The first thing that he noticed was that the chemical laboratory was littered with countless of bottles. Equipment. Test-tubes, Bunsen burners, odd coloured solutions. The large table in the middle was messy, but it was in a sort of organized mess, with certain things lined up in straight rows while a few others were thrown carelessly across the otherwise perfect formation.
The second thing that caught his eye was a man with a crop of red hair—no, calling him a ginger wasn't the correct term to describe him for it was nearly flaming red—bending over to view something in the microscope. The fellow cocked his head up when they both arrived, but returned to his specimen after a quick glance.
"Lenalee, can I borrow your phone?" the man asked, focused on his experiment. "There's no signal in mine."
Lenalee raised an eyebrow. "Can't you use the landline?"
"I prefer to text," he replied.
"Kanda-kun, lend him yours."
"What?" The Japanese snapped, narrowing his eyes.
"Come on. Nii-san would do unspeakable things to him if he finds out—"
"Then let him—"
"Be nice and help him out—"
Somehow Lenalee managed to steal his phone from his pocket and tossed it to the other man. "By the way," she smiled, noting that the other was staring curiously at the third occupant with his phone in hand. "This is Kanda Yuu, an old friend of mine."
"Give that back," Kanda growled, holding his hand out.
The redhead merely looked at him calmly. Kanda glared back at the unwanted attention because he was starting to feel creeped out at the way the redhead was scrutinizing him. The redhead wore an eyepatch over his right eye, but that did not lessen the intensity of the gaze that he observed him with. Lenalee elbowed him to make him say some stupid pleasantry, but Lavi beat her to it.
"Thanks," he said, flipping the clampshell shut after a quick succession of button pressing, walking over and holding it out to the Japanese who snatched it rudely back. "Afghanistan or Iraq?
Kanda immediately stiffened, eyes widening in shock before narrowing with suspicion. How the hell did he—wait, what?
"Which is it?" The other repeated curiously, leveling him with a calm gaze. "Afghanistan or Iraq?"
Swallowing uncomfortably, Kanda frowned. "…Iraq," he muttered, though highly apprehensive. "How did you…?" He shot an accusing look towards the female but Lenalee merely shook her head.
The redhead only looked at him for a moment before turning his attention towards the Chinese. "By the way, Lenalee, where did you get that bracelet? You weren't wearing it this morning."
"Huh?" The girl looked stunned, and her left hand automatically covered her right wrist. "Oh. Um," a slight blush arose. "I met someone afterwards…"
"So, how do you feel about the violin?"
It took Kanda a while to register that he was the one being addressed. "What?"
"I play the violin when I'm thinking and have some chemicals around for my experiments—would that bother you? Potential flat mates should know the worst about each other," the redhead grinned, his one emerald eye glinting.
"Just what did you tell him about me?" Kanda demanded, scowling at Lenalee.
"Nothing," the girl denied, crossing her arms. "You were with me the whole time, remember? You would've known if I called or texted him."
"Then who said anything about flat mates?"
"I did," the redhead cut in smoothly. "I told Lenalee I was a looking for a flat mate and now here he is, clearly done with military service in Iraq—not a difficult conclusion."
"How the hell did you know about that—"
"My flat is a pretty nice place in central London," the other went on without missing a beat, grabbing his coat off the chair. "With you gramps won't kick me out—we'll meet there tomorrow evening at seven o'clock. Sorry, I've got to dash to get those fingers out of the toaster before the old man comes back."
He was nearly out the door when Kanda's low baritone brimming with irritation sounded behind him.
"Is that it?"
He turned, tilting his head. "Is that what?"
The doctor just could not comprehend the situation. "I just fucking met you—I don't know who the hell you are—"
The redhead paused. "Problem?"
"I don't even know your fucking name or where the hell in central London you're talking about, and you fucking don't know me—"
Ah. He took a step closer towards the Japanese, firmly meeting those furious eyes. "I know you're an army doctor and you've returned recently from Iraq. You've got a father who really cares for you but you don't go to him for help. Possibly because he's overbearingly concerned," he stated, cocking his head. "But more likely because you don't want to burden him. The doctor who treated you thinks your tremor in the right hand is psychosomatic and wants you to see a therapist, but you don't because you're too proud to."
Silence echoed after the monologue.
"That's enough to go on with, don't you think?" he shrugged, swinging the door open again. "The name's Lavi Bookman, and the address is 221b Baker Street." he smirked, winking. "Afternoon, Lena-chan!"
With a turn of the heel, he was gone.
Kanda just stared at the door.
"You said he wasn't annoying," he said eventually, narrowed eyes at Lenalee.
She shrugged with a smile.
Messages – Sent
It was the doorman.
Kanda quirked a curious eyebrow.
Just who was this Lavi Bookman?
The guy seemed like a downright weirdo to be honest.
But then again, he did need a place to stay.
For some reason, Kanda found himself standing outside 221b Baker Street at precisely seven. The heavy metal knock resounded precisely three times before it swung open, revealing the face of the man he met yesterday. Still the same outstanding hair colour, though, this time slightly messy, and he was wearing a buttoned up purple shirt with black slacks. The single eye brightened up upon sight, but looked rather expectant, like he knew Kanda would definitely show up.
Lavi swung the door wider. "Hello. Come on in."
The Japanese did so, eyes immediately sweeping over the general outlook of the place as he was led up the stairs.
"Isn't this area kind of expensive?" he muttered, noting that it was a pretty cosy place. Well kept.
"The old man—the landlord of this property—will give you a special rate," the redhead answered as they came up to a single large airy sitting room, furnished with warm wood. "He just wants the second bedroom to be taken."
"That would be me," an older, dryer voice sounded from the side and Kanda nearly jolted in surprise. Lavi seemed perfectly unaffected.
"Gramps, this is Dr. Kanda Yuu," the redhead introduced.
The old man in question looked ancient, to be honest. He was short, and age was certainly a factor to his wrinkled skin. There were two dark circles underneath his eyes and his hair—or lack thereof—was pulled into a tight ponytail at the top. Regardless, Kanda could sense no ill will from the man.
"What do you think, Dr Kanda?" the old man questioned idly. "I told the idiot to find someone to fill the next bedroom but I guess you'll do as well. The room is still open if you want it."
Kanda paused, and frowned. "Of course I'll need it—"
"I'm not one to judge, Doctor. Take as much time as you want to look around," the other replied, by passing him and descending the stairs.
The Japanese's gaze lingered at the disappearing back in confusion for a moment before returning it to scrutinize the living room. It was pretty nice, if he wanted to admit it. The couches were comfy, and the lighting was provided for by two broad windows that sat against the patterned wall. Even the kitchen that extended from the area looked well stocked. As far as he could see, everything was in excellent condition.
Except for the dreadful mess.
"I think so, my thoughts, precisely."
Kanda turned to the redhead who was shuffling next to him. "What?"
"You said it was a nice place," Lavi answered, smiling.
"I didn't say anything," the doctor denied, raising an eyebrow.
The redhead didn't seem to hear him.
"Anyway, you can move in as soon as you want—"
"If you could move all of that shit off the floor—"
Both of them started and stopped at the same time. Lavi stared, noting the look on the other's face. "Oh. Um. Obviously I can straighten things up—" he made some kind of effort to shove a stack of books off the floor to another side of the floor which didn't really help anything, but he tried—
"Is that a fucking skull?" Kanda abruptly asked, eyeing the object on the mantelpiece.
"Friend of mine," the other immediately answered, shrugging. "The name's Hammer."
The frown on the Japanese's face was getting deeper by the second, and he would've said something more, but someone else was knocking on the door. Muffled words were exchanged and soon footsteps were ascending the steps. A second later, the person burst into the room, breathing with a little exertion.
Lavi looked perfectly unsurprised. "Where and who."
"Holmewood gardens, Brixton," the man breathed. "Detective Lee."
The redhead nodded. "I'll come, but not in the police car. I'll be right behind."
The messenger sighed in what seemed like relief, and quickly scuttled back out of the house. Kanda watched the exchange curiously, noting that the redhead was still standing there impassively even after the man had left.
Then, he got the shock of his life.
"BRILLANT! YES!" Suddenly Lavi had shouted in jubilee and pumped a fist excitedly in the air, moving towards Kanda in what seemed like a joyous moment to glomp the other man. "Finally, an unexplained case!"
The doctor carefully maneuvered out of the way of the excited man who continued to ramble to himself, grabbing a coat off the couch along the way.
"Ah, it's Christmas! Yuu, get a cup of tea, make yourself at home! Don't wait up," he sighed happily, heading out the door. "Gramps! I'll be late—I might need some food! Something cold will do!"
"Get it yourself, dimwit!"
Kanda was starting to feel that confusion was what he was always going to feel around this peculiar personality. He was too distracted to notice that the other had called him by his given name—even after a minute later when he opted to take a closer look at his surroundings.
"You're a doctor."
"What the f—" God, was everyone in this bloody house used to creeping up on everybody?
Lavi was leaning on the doorframe, hands fiddling with his scarf. "An army doctor."
Kanda didn't answer in affirmation, but he could tell the other knew.
"Any good?" the redhead asked.
"What do you think?" the Japanese scoffed, crossing his arms.
"You've seen a lot of injuries then," Lavi continued, stepping closer slowly. "Violent deaths. Bloody. Gruesome."
The redhead was now eye to eye with him, and a small smirk played on the edge of his lips. "Want to see some more?"
Kanda couldn't help it. The word slipped out before he even knew he spoke. "Yeah."
"Perfect," Lavi grinned, making a dramatic descent down the stairs in excitement. "Oh, sweet murder! The game, old man, is on!"
"Don't forget your bloody key, boy!"
Once inside a characteristic black London cab, Kanda was starting to question his sanity. What exactly was he doing here? More precisely, sitting in a cab with some random guy he met yesterday going to some place in London for something he didn't even know what.
What. Was. He. Doing?
"You've got questions?"
Again, with the randomly speaking out at random times—it was truthfully starting to creep him out.
But he wasn't going to let go of the opportunity. "Where the hell are we going?"
"Crime scene," Lavi answered calmly. "Next?"
"Who the fuck are you? What do you do?"
The redhead seemed rather amused by the question. "What do you think?"
Kanda gave him a hard long side look. "…Detective," he said eventually. "But you don't stick with those official jackasses."
Lavi concluded correctly that he was talking about the police. "Consulting detective," he replied, chuckling. "Only one in the world; I invented the job. When the police are at the end of the stick—which is always, they consult me."
"Those idiots are morons, but why the hell will they come to you?" Kanda sneered. There was an implied insult in that sentence, and Lavi was sure the other meant it exactly as he said it.
"When I met you yesterday you appeared to be shocked when I told you that you've been to Iraq."
"Lenalee told you," the doctor stated firmly.
Lavi smiled. "Nothing of the sort. No one told me—I observed," he grinned, flicking his eye over the other's form. "When I saw you I immediately knew you came from the military from the way you stood—though, the length of your hair is surprising," he commented, eyeing the tresses, but quickly continued under the sound of a low threatening growl. "You recognized the place which meant that you studied in Queen's Mary, Bart's, so an army doctor," he concluded. "Obvious."
"Your face is slightly tanned but there is no tan line above your wrists which indicate that you have been abroad sometime ago and clearly not for sunbathing. There is a persistent tremor in your right hand but when you stood you forgot about it, so it's probably psychosomatic. Most likely wounded in action then, and if in action, Afghanistan or Iraq. "
The red head was not quite done yet.
"Then there's your father," he continued. "You own an expensive Japanese branded flip phone—probably costs even more to rewire it for the network here. You're looking for a flat to share so you won't waste money on this. So, it's a gift then. Someone obviously loves you enough to treat you something so luxurious. Mostly likely to be one of your parents," he mused. "I took a shot in the dark—your father. He gave a phone to you which meant he wanted you to stay in touch. Maybe you don't look to him for help because he's too concerned, he annoys you. However, the hinge is slightly loose; might indicate that you use the phone often—unlikely, or you often think about contacting him but you don't. Therefore, more likely you don't want to burden him."
Kanda was just staring at him in incredulity. "…How the hell can you possibly…?"
"Guessed," Lavi looked pleased. "Lenalee was very happy to see you yesterday which meant she wasn't expecting to see you—you obviously don't keep in contact with people. Besides, your phone has no scratches at all, which means that it's been used with great care. It clearly has sentimental significance."
It was eerily quiet for a long moment.
"What the fuck."
Lavi blinked when there was no other comment besides that. "Oh," he glanced at the other, looking oddly confused. "That's it?"
At the other's own confused look, he elaborated. "Well, normally people say… piss off."
Kanda snorted, a smirk at the edge of his lips. "Shut the fuck up."
"Did I get anything wrong?" Lavi asked curiously when they had reached their destination, stepping out of their ride.
"I hate the old man," Kanda replied nonchalantly when he was step by step with the consulting detective. "And he's my ex-foster father. Now, what the hell am I supposed to do here?"
"Foster father!" the redhead paused in his steps, making a sort of noise of frustration. "Argh—"
"—there's always something," he muttered under his breath.
"No, seriously, what am I doing here?"
By then they had reached the entrance of a park that had been cordoned off with police tape. Several police cars were parked at the side of the road, and it seemed like a relatively normal affair to duck under the tape and stroll in like they owned the place.
"Why are you here?"
A rather stocky man blocked their path before they could enter further. His lips were curled with disgust.
"Detective Lee called me here," Lavi answered with a smile, and even Kanda could tell it didn't quite reach his eye.
"Because he called me here?"
"Because he needs help with the case?"
"God, shut the fuck up," Kanda snapped reasonably, already irritated.
The scowl turned to him "Who is this?"
Lavi was quick to answer before Kanda did. "Colleague of mine."
"A colleague," the other man frowned. "How did you get a colleague?"
It was lucky that another voice cut through all of them. "Chaoji! Just let him in!"
Chaoji wrinkled his nose, and stepped aside reluctantly. "It's a crime scene and I don't want it contaminated," he muttered under his breath, not that either of the other two acted like they heard him.
A bespectacled man in a white coat was hurrying towards them, and he abruptly stopped in his tracks when his eyes met the Japanese's.
"…Kanda-kun?" he gaped, professionalism all forgotten at the moment as he attempted to pat the other's head. "Lenalee told me you were back but—but—I can't believe it! How have you been? Why, couldn't you just call—"
"Komui," Kanda grounded out, resisting the urge to slam the other unto the floor. "Quit touching me, you sister complex!"
"As cold as always," Komui sighed before straightening up. "So, why are you here anyway?"
"He's with me," Lavi spoke up.
Komui looked back and forth between the two in curious evaluation. "Oh, I see."
The tone of that voice did not make Kanda feel comfortable.
"Well, let's move on," he gestured, walking off to some direction. "I hope you haven't had dinner or else you might just throw it all up. The victim's name is Daisya Barry from what we deduced from his ID. Nothing seems to have been taken from him."
Lavi hummed. "No witnesses?"
"None," Komui shook his head. "The man who reported the incident said that a drunken man was there before him but the drunk wandered off when he was making the phone call. Other than that, nothing."
They all stopped before a lamppost situated deeper in the park. Kanda immediately winced at the sight. A limp body was dangled upside down from the pole, with large nails driven into the victim's legs to fix him unto the structure. Blood was seeping freely onto the ground, and the gravel was disturbed such that there was a word on the ground.
The contortion of the body was terrible and malignant, and combined with the expression of horror twisted upon human features that made the dead man look grotesque. The unnatural writhing posture was cruel, and Kanda had seen many deaths, but never before in such a sadistic gruesome way.
Lavi suddenly shot Komui a frown. "Keep it down."
The detective blinked. "I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking," he retorted.
Kanda didn't know he had his eyebrows raised so high till he lowered them. Okay, so his potential flat mate was weird and bi-polar. Great.
Lavi's demeanor had totally changed from the way he stepped closer to the body to observe it. After donning gloves, he wasted no time in poking and touching the corpse, as though it was the most fascinating thing he had seen in his entire life. Occasionally he pulled out a mini magnifying glass and scrutinized, other times he prodded certain areas and muttered some incomprehensible words.
"Got anything?" Komui asked after minutes of pure silence watching Lavi obsess over the body.
"Nothing much," the redhead sighed, stepping back finally. "He was brought here by someone—most possibly the killer—from Knightsbridge where he works, so far so obvious."
"Obvious?" Kanda repeated, incredulous. "What the fuck—how is that obvious?"
Komui frowned. "What about the word on the ground—"
Lavi ignored him. "Now, Dr Kanda, what do you think?" he asked, looking at the Japanese.
Kanda looked at the body and then at Komui and then at the body again. Was this even legal?
"Lavi," Komui sighed. "I've got a medical team with me—"
"But they won't work with me," the redhead answered flatly. "And you need me."
The detective looked troubled, but then he eventually gave in. "Fine. Do what you want," he sighed in resignation, walking off towards the said medical team. "Chaoji, keep off for a while—"
Both of the other two men watched him leave until they were left alone.
Kanda snapped towards the redhead, glaring. "Don't call me by my first name or I'll cut you," he warned threateningly.
Lavi did not look remorseful in the at least. "Okay."
"And what the hell am I doing here?" the doctor demanded, eyeing the distracting body.
"You're helping me," Lavi smiled amiably. "This is pretty fun, isn't it?"
"Fun?" Kanda echoed, eyebrows knitted together in pure incredulity. "There's a fucking dead body on the lamp post!"
"Perfectly sound observation. Now tell me more."
Kanda stared at the man. Insane. Off his rocker. There was no other explanation for it. Lavi handed him some gloves and he put it on without knowing what he was supposed to feel, stepping closer to the body. He leaned towards the face and pressed his fingers around the neck, feeling the lifeless skin. After a few more touches to the wrists and abdomen, he stepped back.
"Asphyxiation," he declared. "The idiot choked on his own vomit. He wasn't drinking, so it's either a seizure or induced by a drug, either by gas or administrated orally."
"He was murdered," Lavi grinned. "Take a guess."
Kanda would've pointed out at smiling at a murder scene was probably quite an unnatural thing to do, but Komui returned at this point.
"So, what else have you got?"
Lavi glanced at him. "The victim is in his early thirties, a professional in the entertainment industry going by his clothes, most likely a makeup artist going by the specks of coloured powder on his fingers, as well as dots of nail polish on his fingernails from removing polish off a customer's hand," the redhead intoned, rattling off his words like a script. "Was brought to Brixton by his killer—normally he rides a bike, obvious from the blister and callous on his hands. Most likely straight after work from Knightsbridge—"
"Yes," Lavi blinked. "Obvious, isn't it? With that level of personal grooming he probably works somewhere quite up market, and his pants are wet towards the bottom, which indicate that it was raining—heavy rain, too troublesome to attempt to cycle so he stood in the shelter until his killer came by. Where has there been heavy rain in the last 10 hours? Only Knightsbridge."
"What the hell," Kanda muttered disbelievingly, staring at the dead body with renewed interest. How the fuck could anyone read all of that from well, that?
"Where is the bag?" Lavi suddenly asked, pacing around the lamppost, patting the dead man's clothes.
Komui and Kanda looked at him oddly. "What bag?"
"The man was brought here after work—of course he was carrying a bag. Small, black, probably branded, judging by his fondness for fashion. A slight tilt on his left shoulder and crumpled area on the right side of his shirt indicates it's a sling bag, messenger. Where is it?"
"There is no bag," Komui replied, furrowing his eyebrows.
"No bag?" the redhead repeated slowly, then raised his voice to catch the attention of the rest of the policemen standing around. "Bag! Did anyone find a bag? Is there a bag lying around the area?"
"Maybe the killer took it," Kanda supplied helpfully.
"Possibly, most likely," Lavi nodded. "But why? What was so important in the bag? Did he forget—"
Suddenly, Lavi paused, and bent down to pick up something at the feet of the poor corpse. He lifted the item—it was a simple silver ring with a peculiar carving of a butterfly on the inside.
"Silver," he noted, turning the ring with a special care.
"Lavi, the ring," Komui held out his hand, and gave the other a stern look when the redhead seemed reluctant.
"Fine, fine," he muttered, dropping the ring into the outstretched palm. An interested smile worked up the edge of his lips. "Interesting. Now why would there be a ring—Oh. OH," he breathed, excitement lighting up his eye. "I love these murderers—always something to look forward to," he grinned gleefully, skipping off.
"Wait, where are you going?"
"Bag!" Lavi shouted in return, a distance away. "Find out his family, friends, colleagues! Anyone who had ill will towards him—it was clearly for revenge, made obvious by his mistake!"
Dumfounded, Komui and Kanda stood, glancing at each other.
"What just happened?" The doctor thought to ask.
"Lavi," Komui replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "The boy is brilliant but it's just so tiring trying to keep up with him," he sighed. "Well, I've got to clean this place up—sorry, Kanda-kun, you've got to find your own way back."
It wasn't like Kanda would've accepted any form of help anyway, so he strolled out of the crime scene feeling vaguely lost and unsure, since he wasn't used to this part of London. Once he found the main road, he slipped his hands into his pockets.
Empty except for his phone.
Now, how the hell was he supposed to get back?
Messages – Received
Come at once if convenient.
Messages – Received
If inconvenient, come anyway.
Messages – Received
Could be dangerous.
Kanda gritted his teeth and walked faster.
To be continued
A Study in Silver